The Party and the After Party
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: Cloud, a recent addition to the ShinRa military, celebrates at a party and an after party. Under the influence of alcohol, he finds himself keeping company with two strangers. SLASH Cloud/Zack Cloud/Sephiroth


A/N: The title is taken from the song of the same name by the Weeknd.

**The Party and the After Party**

"No time has been lost in which one has been happy." – Henry James, _The Europeans_

O

Cloud was on edge.

He had spent the past four weeks surviving basic training. Throughout what felt like a never-ending foretaste of hell, he comforted himself with the thought of the three recovery days allotted trainees that made the final cut. Much to his amazement, he was one of the lucky twelve applicants to survive out of the original fifty.

He fell asleep in the helicopter on his way to Midgar, dreaming of three whole days to lick his wounds, eat regular meals, shower, and sleep.

When he woke, he was informed in no uncertain terms by his C.O. that he was expected to be showered, groomed, and dressed in his new uniform for the welcoming ceremony that night. No mention of this ceremony was made until then. A quick glance at the other occupants of the helicopter showed that he wasn't the only one feeling ambushed by this turn of events.

"Failure to attend the welcoming ceremony will result in expulsion from the program," the C.O. tossed this last remark over her shoulder before exiting the helicopter. They had arrived.

He had never been to the big city and desperately drank in the unfamiliar skyline of glass and metal and light. It was the center of civilization, the seat of the President himself.

O

Cloud's body was one big bruise. He sneered at the damage in the mirror. A pair of welts on the back of his calves were particularly painful- a reminder that he had nearly failed an obstacle course the day before. It was only cold comfort to know that the eleven other men showering with him were in a similar state of pain. He had always been a perfectionist, and the sight and sensation of his injuries were testament to his many mistakes during training. He wished he was stronger, quicker, smarter.

He took a deep breath did his best to repress his was here now, mistakes or no mistakes. He made it through basic training, and now he had the chance to become everything he wanted to be. Finally, his dreams were within reach. If he made it through the next six months, he would have a chance to distinguish himself in front of the senior officers. If deemed worthy, he could become a Third Class SOLDIER.

He smiled as he dried himself off. He'd joined the army for one reason: to become a man. Becoming a Third Class SOLDIER would make him a man in the eyes of everyone on the Planet. He might be short, speak with a heavy Nibel Mountain accent, and fall on the wrong side of shy, but he was going to try with every molecule of his being to become a SOLDIER.

His mother did not approve of his decision to join the army. He was the first person from Nibelheim to leave for Midgar, a city so far away that he grew up thinking that it existed only in pictures and dreams. His mother chose not to understand why her son couldn't just get a job at the Reactor like everyone else. What was in Midgar, den of sin that the elders called it, that was more important than staying in Nibelheim and undoing the wrong done by his father's dishonor? He knew that she loved him and wanted him safe and near at hand, but sometimes he wondered if perhaps her refusal to accept his decision was motivated in part by pride. If Nibelheim was inadequate, maybe she was as well.

En masse, the latest cohort of hopefuls walked to their temporary barracks to dress. They did so without conscious thought. Moving as solitary individuals was no longer their first instinct.

Cloud, for all his dreams, regretted leaving his father's ignominious elopement with the mayor's wife unresolved. It was Nibelheim practice to count a wrong unforgivable until reparations were made. Unless his father came back, which Cloud doubted, the Strife family would remain in the town's contempt until Cloud somehow repaired the damage. But Cloud was not the kind of person content to merely survive a hopeless and repetitive existence. He hated the thought of doing the same tasks every day, seeing the same people year after year, and living for drunken evenings and weekends. He wanted something fulfilling, something adventurous. He wanted a career that would get his heart moving, and allow him travel and camaraderie with interesting people.

His uniform was olive green with brass buttons. It was the uniform that had been worn by soldiers prior to the introduction of the SOLDIER program ten years before. He fingered the gold braiding decorating the cuffs, lost in dreams. If he was lucky, before the year was over he would be trading this in for a modern uniform of navy blue. He smiled at the thought. If he played his cards right, he would be a SOLDIER before his eighteenth birthday.

Due to the extreme conditions of the previous weeks, he barely knew the names of his peers. He liked a boy named Danny, who knew how to stay out of trouble, but they hadn't said more than twenty words to each other. Danny gravitated to his bunk and Cloud gave him a perfunctory smile. Danny returned it and wordlessly began to dress. They dressed in unison and then assisted one another in fastening the difficult buttons on their cuffs. Around the narrow low-ceilinged room, their peers did the same.

Then, dressed and groomed, they waited the remaining fifteen minutes before the arrival of their guide. Danny offered Cloud a cigarette, which he refused, and then a pack of cards, which were accepted. They played a few hands of a popular children's game (neither had time to teach the other anything more complicated) and then put away the cards when the time remaining was less than two minutes. One of their sergeants during basic training hated the sight of gaming, deeming it a sign of criminal predilection. The habit of hiding cards was too ingrained to be reversed at this point.

They arranged themselves in an orderly fashion near the door. Cloud listened to Ellis and Wei bicker about Chocobo racers, sharing humorous glances with his peers. Ellis and Wei were fiercely nationalistic sports fanatics, and despised one another simply because their country's sportsmen were engaged in a decades-long rivalry. Ellis had three demerits for instigating fights with Wei, although Wei should have been penalized as well. Wei was lucky; his father was a Turk. By proxy, Wei was considered untouchable.

The door opened. They were lectured for five minutes about not over-eating or –drinking, given several examples of consequences suffered by their predecessors for doing so, and finally escorted to the ceremony. Cloud expected a depressing utilitarian room not unlike the mess hall at their old training center, maybe with a bedraggled balloon or two to make it "festive."

They marched for a good ten minutes, progressing from concrete and metal to paint and tile and finally to wall paper, carpet, and actual pictures. Potted ferns, nesting tables, and plush sofas dotted the halls, interspersed with framed articles from the rise of the President's reign and ShinRa. Cloud glanced at them as they marched, catching sight of a man with long silver hair in those detailing ShinRa's victory over Wutai. He wondered who he was, and wished that the one-room schoolhouse in Nibelheim actually educated students in current events.

They arrived. The guide pushed open two heavy wooden doors to reveal a vast room filled to bursting with politicians, their wives, and officers. A quick skim of the banners tacked to the walls explained the crowd- the room contained multiple events. He could only guess that the crush was to simplify catering and security measures. There was a charity event, an awards ceremony for officers, some sort of campaign promotion, and their piddling welcome to the ranks of the army.

Their guide escorted them to the far left of the room, where a one-eyed man in a uniform covered with medals shook their hands and mumbled a few words between gulps of the bottle of wine grasped in his fist. In less than five minutes, they were dismissed to do as they pleased until three a.m., when they were required to make their way to their barracks. In the blink of an eye the others disappeared, some towards the bar and others towards the few unattached women. Cloud, somewhat embarrassed and unsure of himself, made his way to a sofa tucked into the corner, snagging a glass of champagne on the way. He had never had wine before, or anything but imported beer and his grandmother's cider. He decided he liked the bubbles, and gulped it down.

His brain cells scattered painfully and he immediately felt regret. Champagne is not meant to be gulped. He gave himself a few minutes to collect the remains of his gray matter, then helped himself to a second glass. His body ached, and he was tired of the constant pain: he was going to get drunk tonight… but slowly.

Three drinks later, he succeeded. His head buzzed, his lips were numb, and his hands felt clumsy, toy-like. He watched the politicians make speeches, ladies in sparkly dresses sign huge cardboard checks, and the President himself toast the new officers of the ShinRa army with a feeling of distance, as though he observed them through a telescope.

He was just drifting off to sleep when Danny appeared. He was flushed and half the buttons of his uniform were undone.

"Hey, Cloud, want to come with me to the after party?"

Cloud looked around. It was barely eleven, but most of the stuffy-looking couples had cleared out. Those remaining stood in pairs or tight groups who obviously knew one another. The party was definitely winding down, not that Cloud had been participating in it. He met Danny's eyes and saw that he didn't want to go to without him. He sighed. Why not?

"Yeah, okay."

Danny led him to the doors where maybe six of their compatriots were congregated. Cloud was surprised to see that they were mixed with SOLDIERS and officers from the other event, laughing and sharing anecdotes. From the flushed faces, he surmised that alcohol was the primary cause of the sudden democratic environment.

The after party proved to be in one of the officer's private quarters on the 39th floor, and consisted of dim lighting, pounding music, the mysterious presence of non-military women, and kegs of cheap beer. Cloud stayed close to Danny as long as possible. His natural shyness swelled as he sobered.

He was handed a beer by a faceless SOLDIER and promptly gulped it down. If he was lucky, it would make him a little less shy. He could hear his mother's voice warning him not to accept drinks from strangers, but he was just buzzed enough to ignore it.

A girl with long green hair approached Danny, and suddenly Cloud was alone. He grabbed another cup of beer from the table of refreshments and staked out a seat in the corner. Just as he was cautiously checking the floor and sofa for vomit, an unknown person grabbed his arm from behind and spun him around. Expecting a fight, Cloud sloshed his drink in the man's face and prepared to run. The man released him, laughing, and wiped his face. He was a SOLDIER, though his rank was unknown because he'd removed his jacket.

"Wow! That is some welcome!" He shouted over the music, grinning down at Cloud. He towered over him like the others, but he was broader as well. "Sorry I startled you. Want to dance?"

Cloud was not given a choice in the matter. Before he could blink, much less protest, he was dragged to the group of dancers in the middle of the room. He'd never danced before, but that did not prove a barrier. The man, whose name he still did not know, wrapped his arms around him and led his body in a controlled sway. The rhythmic pulse of the music destroyed what little cognitive skill Cloud had left. He did not think about why he was dancing with another man or what it might mean. He just let it happen. When the man met his eyes and began to kiss him, he just reacted.

The room spun dizzily around him; he felt like he was floating. The constant boom-boom-boom of the music was a cosmic heartbeat. Cloud sank into the sensation of it and began to respond more actively to his partner's advances. He cautiously touched his hair and felt the contours of his biceps. They were hard as rock. He experienced a brief flash of jealousy. The SOLDIER tilted his head and began to kiss him in earnest, guiding the back of his head with a hand wrapped gently around the nape of his neck. Cloud smiled against the man's lips and sighed with surprised pleasure when he felt strong hands become bolder against his flesh, slipping up the back of his jacket and even into his pockets to squeeze his backside.

His uniform began to feel unbearably hot, and he was starting to get dizzy, so he pulled away from the man's lips and whispered as much into his ear. The man nodded and led the way off the dance floor. Cloud stumbled and tripped, almost knocking the man over. The SOLDIER didn't seem to mind; he laughed and supported Cloud like he weighed nothing at all.

Cloud was vaguely aware that they had left the crowded room, that they were walking down the hallway, and that they were entering another room. He stood by the door, confused, while the man removed their shoes, Cloud's first and then his own. When he'd finished, he looked at Cloud and smiled.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Cloud nodded. "Yeah…where are we?"

"My place. Is that okay?"

Cloud stepped forward and kissed him. He had no idea what he was doing. It felt like he had a fever from the alcohol and heavy canvas fabric of his uniform, but his body craved the feel of another person's touch. Away from the overwhelming influence of the dance floor, he could feel the subtle scrape of stubble against his cheek. The SOLDIER began to kiss his neck.

They found their way to the futon against the wall, and Cloud lay on his back with the man on top of him. His uniform was cumbersome, and his admirer seemed to feel the same way. As his fingers nimbly pulled at the brass buttons, Cloud smiled up at him and asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Zack. You're Nathan, right?"

He shook his head, "No, I'm Cloud. There is a Nathan in my cohort, though. Were you looking for him?"

"Fuck no. Unless you're twins, in which case he is welcome to join us."

Cloud wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, but he smiled. He grasped Zack's forearm and gave it an admiring stroke. "You're really muscular."

Zack chuckled, "Thanks. I'm paid to be. Hey, I'm not going too fast, am I?"

His hands hovered over the fly of Cloud's trousers. Cloud looked up. His eyes unfocussed and then refocused on his image in a small mirror behind Zack. He studied himself. His jacket, shoes, and socks were gone, and his hair was mussed beyond all recognition. His cheeks and lips were redder than the sweet tart apples that grew behind the town store. He looked back at Zack, who was studying him with interest.

"You're really beautiful, Cloud. I'm glad we danced, and, you know, made out a little. And if that's all this is, that's okay. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do."

Cloud relaxed. Somehow, hearing Zack articulate everything he hadn't allowed himself to think about made him so much more comfortable. Whatever happened tonight, he was going to just relax and enjoy it. Who knew when he would have a chance like this again? His future of endless training seemed to stretch on forever. He brushed it aside and entered the present.

"I want to do what you want to do."

Zack flushed, looking away for a moment. When he looked back, he trailed his eyes over Cloud from the crown of his head to his thighs, where his body obscured Cloud's. Swallowing, he leaned down and kissed Cloud with more gentleness than he had that evening. As he kissed him, he slowly drew down his zipper and reached inside. Cloud was surprised to realize that he was aroused. Somehow he hadn't noticed just how badly his body wanted this until then.

"You're sure this is okay?"

Cloud rolled his eyes and squirmed out from under him. Zack sat up, looking confused and worried. Without ceremony, Cloud stripped off the remainder of his clothing. Living with fifty other men had desensitized him to any shred of modesty. Naked as the day he was born, he returned to the futon and stretched out. With a flash of boldness he didn't know he was capable of, he asked, "Can you undress yourself or do I need to help you?"

Zack burst out laughing, leaning forward to briefly lay his head against Cloud's stomach.

"I was not expecting that! I mean, wow. You're naked. And I thought you were going to leave, man. Holy shit."

Cloud chuckled and smoothed a strand of Zack's hair behind his ear, "I don't need to be in my barracks until three, and it's barely midnight now. I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, okay. I'll try to remember. Damn, you have got serious bruises. Did you fall off a cliff?"

Cloud crossed his arms self-consciously, "Are we going to talk about my bruises or are you going to undress?"

Zack looked at him askance, "Where did my shy boy go?"

Cloud shrugged and tugged at the neck of Zack's undershirt. "I don't know."

Zack took the hint and removed the shirt. He then stood to tug off his trousers, which Cloud noticed were deep purple in color. He frowned, trying to remember which class that was. Zack's lips were on his before he could quite remember. Zack seemed, if possible, even more sure of himself now than before.

If asked to describe what, precisely, happened between them, he would be at a loss. He didn't know the names of half the acts performed, and had no intention to kiss and tell even if he did.

O

An hour and a half later, Cloud abandoned a soundly sleeping Zack and returned to the party. Accustomed to darkness, he was able to navigate his way through the refreshment table with more finesse than before. Side-stepping the pre-poured plastic cups of beer, he kidnapped a forgotten half-bottle of cheap champagne.

He hadn't intended to drink while lying bemused beside Zack, but as soon as he'd begun dressing, the pain in his bruises convinced him that some additional numbing would be wise after his athletic behavior of the past hour.

Most of the room was taken up by misbehaving couples, but, miracle of miracles, an entire loveseat was unused by the window. He moved towards it as quickly as the unfamiliar aches in his body allowed, and settled down to drink.

He'd been staring at the last centimeter of champagne at the bottom of his bottle for some time when he dimly registered someone sitting beside him. He did not know how long they'd been there. Turning his head, blinking as the room spun like the view from his childhood tire swing, he registered a black uniform spangled with medals and ribbons. He blinked again and forced himself to stop slouching and sit up straight as befit a soldier.

When did the sofa turn from navy blue to silver? He frowned and squinted at it until he discerned that the swath of silver was not upholstery but hair. His frown deepened. Where had he seen long silver hair before?

"Hey, are you okay?"

A large hand, twice the size of his still-childish fists, grasped his shoulder and steadied him as he began to lean to one side. He looked at the man's face. He didn't trust his eyes, but he was fairly certain that this man was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He opened his mouth and said as much. The alcohol had intensified his accent almost to the point of incoherence. He wondered if the man was able to understand him, so he cleared his throat and repeated himself.

The man smiled. "Thank you; that is very kind."

When Cloud didn't respond, tongue-tied, the man added, "You're drunk, aren't you?"

Cloud giggled and covered his face. He nodded.

"Well, good for you, but you are not going to make it to your barracks in this state. Is there anybody here that can take care of you?"

Cloud shook his head and then grabbed it, moaning when everything started sloshing violently around the interior of his skull.

The man stood. "Are you ready to go? I'm leaving and I don't mind taking a detour."

Cloud struggled to his feet, dropping the bottle. It landed on the floor with a clattering thump. The man caught him as he reeled forward, and Cloud felt a low rumble against his ear when he laughed.

"You are definitely drunk."

"Yeah…"

The man led him through the apartment to the door. There was no sign of any of the others from his troop. Cloud hoped that they were safely in bed; he didn't want any of them to receive a reprimand.

The man led him outside and down the hall to the elevator. While they waited, he asked, "What floor?"

Cloud told him. The man raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"What's your name?"

"Cloud."

"Hm. That's Nibel, right?"

Cloud nodded. "Born and bred."

"You're a long way from home."

He shrugged, "Yeah, but this is where I want to be."

The man smiled and ushered him into the elevator. He pressed the appropriate button. They waited. Nothing happened. The man frowned and tried again. When that failed, he tried several different combinations, all to similar effect. The doors refused to shut. He sighed and stepped out. Cloud followed and watched as he used a fancy PHS to call someone on his speed dial.

"Hi Jeremy, this is Sephiroth. I'm on the 39th, and elevator isn't working. Could you-," there was a pause while Sephiroth listened, "Oh, really? Well, a memo would have been nice. This _is _the only semi-public elevator. No, I know it's not your fault. I'll figure something out. Thanks. Have a nice night. Bye."

He hung up and turned to Cloud, explaining, "The elevator is down for maintenance. Apparently this has been scheduled for two months, but nobody sent out a memo. Because I can't justify sending you down 37 flights of stairs in your current state, I offer you a night on my couch, which is only two flights up."

"But I have to be in my bunk in-" Cloud looked at the clock mounted above the elevator, "ten minutes!"

Sephiroth shook his head, "That is not possible. Don't worry- I'll write you a waiver explaining the situation. This is not your fault."

"Oh. Are you, like, an officer?"

Sephiroth gave him a funny look but didn't respond. Instead, he opened the door to the stairs and ushered Cloud ahead of him. They climbed in silence. Sephiroth's apartment was small and sparsely furnished. A brown leather couch stood like an island in the center of a lilac-colored rug, facing a crowded bookshelf with a small television set perched carelessly on top. It was flanked by a pair of exotic plants from Wutai.

"Please remove your boots."

Cloud obeyed.

"I'll get you something to sleep in. Help yourself to some water. You'll appreciate it in the morning."

Sephiroth disappeared into his bedroom, and Cloud wandered into the kitchen, holding onto the wall as he went. Sephiroth re-appeared, tossed something onto the couch, and reached over Cloud to open a cabinet.

"Are you hungry?"

Cloud nodded.

"Me too. How about…let me see here…" he rummaged through his cabinets, absently twisting his long, long hair over one shoulder, out of his way. Cloud watched through bleary but fascinated eyes. This man, Sephiroth, really was incredibly beautiful. Everything about the way he moved was so graceful that he was inhuman, a beautiful alien inhabiting a world populated by clumsy, grunting beasts.

"Oh! Hey, how do waffles sound?"

"That sounds fucking amazing."

Sephiroth looked at him and smiled, "I like the enthusiasm. I'd ask you to help, but you still look pretty drunk. I think it would be better if you just have a seat and wait. I don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself."

Cloud clambered onto a counter top like he used to as a kid and watched Sephiroth deftly crack eggs and measure milk. In fifteen minutes time, two plates were prepared and set aside. The waffle maker was swabbed and the cooking utensils were placed in the sink to soak.

"Let's eat on the couch." He carried the plates into the living room. Cloud attempted to climb down to follow, but found himself unable to do so. He frowned and tried again. Sephiroth returned in time to catch him as he fell.

"Whoa, careful. I can't have new recruits breaking their heads open. Come on, let's eat…."

Cloud met his eyes when he trailed off. Sephiroth gazed steadily at him for a few achingly long moments before blinking and casting his eyes to the side. "Come on," he repeated, "the food is getting cold."

They sat on the couch, plates in their laps, and ate. Sephiroth turned on the news and watched with apparent interest as the very made-up newscaster described a squashed uprising in Wutai, a major traffic accident under the Plate, and the rising global infant mortality rate. Cloud scanned the titles of the books and then, when he'd finished eating, began to watch Sephiroth. Sephiroth turned to him.

"Finished?"

He cleared their plates without waiting for an answer, and returned with a tall glass of water for Cloud. "Can you undress by yourself?"

"Um…" Cloud gave an embarrassed laugh. Sephiroth smiled.

"Don't worry; let me help you."

The t-shirt Sephiroth pulled over his head was several sizes too big and smelled strongly of peppermint. The trousers were too long, but otherwise fit well enough. Sephiroth knelt in front of him and carefully rolled up the bottoms. Cloud watched the play of the light from the TV and the kitchen on his long pale hair through half-lidded eyes. Without thinking about it, he reached out and ran his fingers through the shorter pieces framing Sephiroth's face.

Sephiroth paused for a moment, and then finished adjusting the trousers. Instead of rising, he gently took hold of Cloud's hand and kissed it. Cloud felt something squeeze painfully and ecstatically inside of him. Sephiroth opened his hand and kissed the fleshy part where his thumb joined his palm, and ever so carefully brushed his lips against his wrist. Cloud wondered if he could feel his racing pulse.

Without discussing it, Cloud followed Sephiroth into his bedroom. He wondered briefly, as Sephiroth helped him undress, how his actions this night would look in the cold light of day. He decided he didn't care. Right now, nothing was more right than touching this man and being touched in return.

Sephiroth's lips tasted like butter and syrup, and sometimes his hands caught in Cloud's hair from residual stickiness. He was gentler than Zack had been, and moved slower. There was no manic rushing or juvenile fumbling; everything was excruciatingly smooth, with each movement leading naturally to the next. Cloud wondered if he would ever encounter lovemaking like this again. He hoped so.

When they'd finished, he knew that he'd had sex in the ordinary sense of the word. It felt nothing like he'd though it would, but he desperately wanted to do it again. Unfortunately they were both too tired to attempt to muster a second wind. Cloud drifted into sleep with his lips resting against the elegant contour of Sephiroth's right pectoral.

O

"You will never believe who I managed to score with last night."

Sephiroth raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of coffee, "Scarlet?"

Zack gagged. "Oh my god, why did you say that? Gross. Super gross. No, like I was trying to say-"

"Hey, can you lower your voice a touch? I have company sleeping in the next room."

Zack's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You mean there is somebody…? In your bed? Right now?"

Sephiroth smiled mysteriously and drank some more of his coffee, "It's not a big deal. It just kind of happened. It's nobody you know. But _you_ were trying to tell _me_ who you got with last night, not the other way around. Was it Reno, the new Turk trainee? I saw him looking you over last night."

"No, not Reno. I didn't even know he was there- I was too busy trying to figure out the best way to approach this gorgeous blond kid. He's fresh off the helicopter, and enjoying his last bit of freedom before starting training. He was a little drunk by the time I worked up the nerve to make my move, but, man, that did not detract anything. His eyes were so big and pretty, and he had this cute accent, like he's from the mountains or something…what's the matter?"

Sephiroth slowly put down his coffee cup. "What was his name?"

"Um…Nathan? No, wait…Cloud. Cloud Strife. Do you know him or something?"

Sephiroth silently led the way to his bedroom and opened the door, revealing Cloud fast asleep (and very naked) in his bed.

Zack was speechless. Sephiroth closed the door. Neither of them moved away from it, but they avoided one another's eyes.

"Well. were you intending to pursue a relationship with him?"

"Yeah," Zack's voice, normally so buoyant, was solemn. "You?"

"The same."

"Fuck."

O

Author's Note: Yeah, so it has been a really long time since I uploaded something, and that trend will continue. For those wondering, I finished my BA and am currently a graduate student of literature.


End file.
